


To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

by feistymuffin



Series: Dabbles in Drabbles [2]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistymuffin/pseuds/feistymuffin
Summary: Mark has a nightmare.





	To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little project I started recently with the intention of something a little longer, but I trimmed it down and I kind of like it this way instead. enjoy!

At first it’s just silence and the dark. They’re both simple things, harmless things on their own and even together. The lack of noise isn’t sinister, and he hears nothing but the hushed caress of wind around him. But then, one at a time he can hear them, soft sounds that escalate as if amplified right at him. A wail of agony. Quiet, sobbing breaths begging for something to stop.

When the growling starts Mark jumps. It sounds as if it’s right next to him and he whirls in place to look but he sees nothing. The sound retreats and approaches, testing him, tasting his fear. Even if he had light he knows it wouldn’t penetrate the abyss around him that seems to smother his very soul, but it still doesn’t stop him from wishing he had a flashlight.

The thing divides into several things, and then snarling voices echo in the dark and threaten his every move, hissing in an evil, guttural tongue. He turns when he feels something brush his leg, something barbed with bristly, abrasive fur that scuffs across his skin, but again there’s nothing to see past the dark.

They circle him, low growls their only identifier. Like rabid dogs cornering a kill he feels them all draw closer, squeezing him for every last drop of terror that he can hold. They’re so close he can breathe in their snarls, can taste their foul, decaying odour. They brush his leg again, and then his arm, and then claws rake across his chest and teeth sink into the meat of his hand. 

His scream is swallowed by the oppressing silence scattered with vicious growls and screams of pain in the distance, and the pulsing, oozing darkness closes in on every side. The ground gives way beneath his feet when he takes a step to run and he crashes to the writhing dirt where he’s quickly consumed by the earth like molasses sucking in a fly. 

“Mark!” he hears through the gelatinous fog. It’s soft and barely there amongst all the other sounds, but he hears it. Teeth gnash through his flesh, his arm blazing with a blinding, searing pain, his chest gushing blood from long, weeping gashes. Razors embedding in his skin. Needles piercing him, talons shredding him. 

The soft voice comes again. “Mark!” it calls, and he sobs because it’s so far away. Impossible to get to through this hell. “Mark!” 

He opens his mouth and cries out, wordless despite trying to form something beyond screaming as the beasts tear him slowly apart.

In a flash his eyes open, and it’s not an abyss anymore but his bedroom ceiling. His heart is racing almost as fast as his mind and with slow realization and gasping, quick breaths Mark realizes where he is. Jack’s worried face hovers over him, and Mark lifts his head to see a lamp at their bedside lighting the room to a soft golden glow. It makes the fear in his boyfriend’s eyes seem so much more potent as they glitter with unshed tears, and he wonders how long Jack was trying to wake him up. 

But when he sees that Mark’s awake Jack smiles wetly, hands smoothing over Mark’s bare chest and shoulders, up his neck to cup his face. “Hey, baby,” he whispers. “Welcome back.”

Mark lets out a groan and drops his head back to the pillow, feeling the vestigial, ghostly remnants of the nightmare’s pain. He stares up at Jack and wraps an arm around the Irishman’s back. “I know this usually goes without saying,” he croaks, “but I am really glad to see your face right now.”

Jack’s smile widens and he dips down to kiss Mark’s mouth once before murmuring, “I’m glad you’re with me again. This one was bad enough to actually worry me.”

“You’re always worried,” Mark accuses gently, rubbing a hand down Jack’s side to the waistband of his boxers. 

“You don’t know what you sound like,” Jack says after a long moment, and his eyes hold nightmares of their own. “Like you’re dying from the inside out.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark murmurs. He coaxes Jack down to kiss him again and keeps him there with a hand at the back of his neck, easing his mouth open with teasing touches of his tongue.

“Haven’t I repeatedly told you not to apologize for this? Ever?” Jack wonders dryly, their lips brushing. “A nightmare is hardly anyone’s fault. No one asks for them. No one deserves them.” His eyes soften and he places a sweet kiss on his lips. “Even you, with all your guilt, can’t take the blame for a bad dream.”

Mark sighs and relents with a small smile, “You may have a point. But I reserve the right to be apologetic about waking you up.”

“I don’t work today,” Jack tells him, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his eyes and combing his fingers through it. “And neither do you. So maybe we should try to get some more sleep.”

Mild fear clutches Mark’s heart in a tight vice, the nightmare vivid in his mind. “I probably can’t sleep yet.”

“Then let’s watch some Netflix and cuddle,” Jack yawns, standing from his bedside to circle the bed and pick up the tablet sitting on his nightstand. He crawls in beside Mark and props his pillow up against the headboard, sitting back and poking his tablet awake. “What do you feel like watching?”

Hesitantly Mark puts his hand on Jack’s, making him pause and look up from browsing the Netflix app. “I don’t want to watch anything,” he murmurs, his voice husky as he eyes Jack’s body.

Jack puts the tablet back down on the nightstand and turns to him with a mischievous look. “So now you’re getting fear boners? This is my life now?”

Mark guffaws and shoves him in the shoulder. “God, way to judge a guy for wanting some comfort sex.”

“Comfort sex I can do,” Jack says easily, his expression easing into a soft smile as he slides down to lay beside Mark, resting his head on the pillow. “I’m never going to turn down a chance to put some moves on you.”

“I thought not,” Mark laughs. The sound is muffled by Jack’s mouth touching to his and Mark pulls him close, holding him tight enough to bruise. Feeling Jack’s body under his hands soothes the anxiety roiling within him down to a dull roar, something ignorable until it becomes forgettable. 

“Ease up, baby, I’m not made of iron,” Jack scolds him, teasing. Obligingly Mark loosens his arms and Jack takes the opportunity to roll Mark onto his back and lay over him. “Not that I mind that kind of attention.” 

When he quirks an eyebrow Jack only shrugs, stroking his fingers through the hair over his ear and staying silent. Mark lets his eyes wander even as he feels them grow heavy, lets his body soak up Jack’s constant, soothing warmth and alights his hands over Jack’s back, running them over the pale skin in slow caresses. “I don’t know how,” Mark murmurs drowsily, smiling when Jack lies down onto his chest and nuzzles their noses together, “but every day I love you more. Every single day.”

With a soft sigh Jack kisses his lips, brief and chaste and momentously perfect. He draws back minutely and smiles with boundless affection lighting his eyes, and Mark’s next loving words are lost in his mouth, smothered into nothingness as his boyfriend chases his fears away like a cherishing, vibrant beacon against every last shadow.


End file.
